Original subtitles

Previously on "Mr. Mercedes"...

Last night when Sadie fell,

you were standing with the ex-cop

who used to come visit Hartsfield.

- He's a friend. - Oh, friends are great.

A job's better.

The police have ruled it a suicide.

You don't think it was a suicide?

It doesn't matter what I think.

Can I ask what exactly you're doing here?

Holly...

Bill thinks he's onto something.

Honestly, I think it just gives him an excuse

to keep following his obsession with Brady Hartsfield.

If you want to get into Sadie McDonald's head,

you should probably try and get into her phone.

Can't watch you hurt yourself anymore.

Steph, I know that you still care about me.

There's a difference between caring about someone

and caring for someone.

I'd like to see your daughter's phone, please.

- Why? - Because I share your suspicion.

I want to see if I can explain what happened.

How do you feel about pain?

Seize that moment.

Occupandi temporis, you little bitch.

What the fuck are you doing?

What's the connection between this and this?

I think he found a way to communicate with Sadie McDonald.

I'm in! Who's Matthew?

- Boyfriend. - "He's in my head.

I don't know how else to explain it."

- It's the Zappits, dummy. - They hypnotize people.

The Zappits are just the doorway.

- You need to walk through it. - I'm in.

Let's get out of here, shall we?

I fucking knew it.

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx www.addic7ed.com

Sadie used the word "communicating."

Yeah, she was also off her fucking meds, so...

Look, never mind with the attitude.

I bring enough attitude to the fucking equation myself.

Don't need to outsource the task to you.

What else could "communicating" mean?

Uh... do you think Brady Hartsfield

was sitting on his bed and no one's looking

and he's chopping it up with the staff?

Did I say I think that?

Right, then what are we doing here? Seriously.

The truth of it is, none of it makes any fucking sense.

But?

I can't shake the idea that that's where the truth is.

Sadie McDonald was pregnant.

She was off her medications, and then on top of that,

she was fighting with her boyfriend, who described her

as, uh, "anxious on a good day."

I get a feeling for people.

She wasn't the sort to take her life.

You think suicide walks around with a fucking sign on its head?

Oh, she was moping around, so everybody thought,

"Oh, today, she's gonna leave Earth"?

That's not how it works, Hodges.

How does it work?

You wake up, you make breakfast,

you write a funny note,

put it in a lunchbox, you pay bills,

you take a shower, you put some clean clothes on.

Then you leave another note...

on the kitchen table this time.

You drive off to the lake, you take a bottle of pills,

swim to the middle of the lake, and you drown.

Your mother, uh, left a note?

Mm-hmm.

I always thought that there wasn't.

Yeah, I... I know what you thought.

I know what everybody thought. That was the idea.

But if I could describe my mom...

I'd say "mostly happy."

I'm sorry.

It was five years ago.

Still...

Can I ask you something?

Without you going off on me?

You can ask... no guarantees.

You think a part of you wants this case to go on?

That wants Brady Hartsfield to go on?

Why the fuck would I want that?

Don't tell me. Purpose, right?

I want a serial-killing, ice-cream fuck

to crawl out from his vegetative crypt

because it beats the shit out of playing Scrabble?

Is that it?

I agree with ya.

The whole notion is batshit.

Can't shake it, though?

No.

Let's go. We got things to do.

_

This flavor takes exactly like Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

You sure there aren't any calories in E-juice?

Can we like, do something?

Slut-face?

One sec. I've never gone this far.

Hey, you never told me your boyfriend drove such a sick car.

Check him out!

Oh, Barbara.

My, my.

How you've grown.

He's so creepy.

Not even second period, and this is my third one today.

They're like locusts.

Granted, these are summer school students...

not the most focused in the world... but wow.

They're not concentrating at all.

Listen, in our day, we at least used to pass notes.

These kids just sit there and stare at these things.

I'm Ida Silver, by the way.

- Elliot Lee. - Oh.

- I'm a volunteer, too. - Oh, teaching English?

Our mother tongue, in the age of emojis.

I can't believe we handed these things out to help them learn.

- So much for progress. - Mm-hmm.

- Nice meeting you, Ida. - Same here.

The frontal cortex appears similar

to that of a healthy adult.

So, what you're saying is, he shouldn't

still be lying here like a vegetable?

My working theory is

it's an unexplained manifestation of mutism.

Do you see yourself retiring in 25 years

as the head of neurosurgery in Mercy General

in Bridgetown, Ohio?

No, I don't.

You want something more, right?

American dream?

Same here.

You know, there are only two possible steps after you run

the homicide unit for the D.A....

the district attorney itself

or straight off a fucking cliff.

Now, I'm going to be the district attorney,

take my boss's job, whether he says so or not.

But I need a case, Felix.

And no one's been thoughtful enough to slaughter

an entire family or thrill-kill a bunch of white women lately.

So I'm stuck looking for my case,

and this motherfucker's it.

I can't make him sit up and talk.

But you led me to believe that you could.

And I backed off your boss, which would be news to my boss.

I'm helping you, Felix.

You need to help me.

Or?

Or...

I walk away.

And I look for someone else to plug

into the trial of the century, and you'll see

what it feels like to be on your own again.

Pretty soon, you'll be moving out of that big house

in Sugar Heights and joining me on Sycamore.

Well, there's nothing wrong with Sycamore.

Sycamore and Spring.

Oh.

Fuck you, dude. It's not bad.

Got myself a contemporary Craftsman,

just had it painted gray.

My wife loves it.

But she ain't gonna love it in five years.

I understand.

I've seen your wife.

I bet you do.

Andale, Doctor.

Make your medical magic bullshit happen.

Contemporary fucking Craftsman.

Bingo.

- So, group's been good? - Oh, group's been great.

Mike B. makes eye contact now.

Wow.

Anyway, I'm glad that you're alive.

We were beginning to wonder.

Oh, that was sarcasm.

You're being sarcastic.

- Look at you. - My partner at work is sarcastic,

so I've gotten rather used to it.

You're lucky you're working.

I lost tenure after Paranormal Science

published my article on mind control.

Too many claims, not enough proof.

Bastards. They're so closed-minded.

Well, I quite liked it.

I mean, I didn't believe most of it,

but I thought the points where you touched on

abnormal psychology were very interesting.

You read it?

Oh, twice.

Actually, uh, I'm trying to understand

how some people can get other people to do things...

crazy things, like, um,

like Jim Jones and the Jonestown massacre.

You wrote your dissertation on how he, uh,

convinced all those people to kill themselves, right?

I did... indeed.

So how'd he do it?

Well, first of all, he didn't just talk them into it.

In fact, the majority of human communication,

especially in groups, is nonverbal.

Speaking of nonverbal communication,

let's say there was a mute, immobile psychopath.

Do you think that there's, like, any possible way

that he could get into someone's brain

and then convince that person to kill herself?

Are you talking about a particular situation?

No. Not at all. No way. I just, um...

I just need to know if you think that it's possible.

I don't think it's possible.

Oh.

I know it is.

You ever heard of entanglement?

Like... like, quantum theory?

Exactly.

Yeah. What about it?

When you're dealing with entangled particles,

they will never act independently from one another.

One will always be in control of the other one,

no matter how far apart they are in space and time.

- Okay. - And certain people...

manipulators, we call them...

they're able to maneuver energy,

be it physical or psychic.

Simple as that.

Wow.

Do you know what Einstein called it

when he first discovered entanglement?

No.

"Spooky action at a distance."

Wow.

How we doing?

It's okay.

You got that look again.

What look?

The "Hey, Jerome, you down to break the law look today?"

Nonsense.

Just checking on your gazebo progress.

Just say it.

Mercy General, one quick hack, in and out.

Won't even break a sweat.

You shitting me?

No, I'm coming around to the opinion

that what we've been told about Hartsfield

may not be the whole truth, medically speaking.

In and out.

You've lost your mind.

In and out.

Bill, you've lost your mind.

You know this is straight-up criminal, right?

Criminal. I mean...

No, fuck it. No, you're right. You're right. I'm sorry.

Forget it.

Look, um, before, I got it, you know?

Good guy trying to catch the bad guy makes sense,

but dude's in a coma

and you want to hack into hospital files?

Just... I just said forget it.

Yeah, but you're not forgetting. You're obsessing.

Holly was right.

Oh, you've been conversing with Holly, have ya?

What the hell is wrong with you?

You think I know?

Fuck's sake.

You know, people assume as we age that, you know,

this old-fuck wisdom just clicks in.

Well, it isn't like that.

Fucking lose track of anything.

You want a little piece of old-fuck wisdom?

Here it is... everything goes to shit.

Write it down.

I don't need to write it down.

I'm still very young, so my memory's still intact.

Well, then, maybe you should give me

some wisdom for the young, then.

What do we tell the young people these days?

Follow your heart.

It works every time.

Well...

life for the heart is simple, somebody said.

it just beats as long as it can.

Maybe that's what I'm doing.

Sorry.

I'm gonna get back to work, all right?

Use the Phillips screws on the top, right?

Yeah, got it.

That's it, huh?

It's tiny, right?

Perfectly normal for being 10 weeks in.

Notice that your monitor's a little fuzzy.

My company has a model

that produces a breathtaking HD image,

and it's more than price-competitive.

Budgets are due in a month. Leave me your card.

Left it with the receptionist.

Here you go.

Thank you.

And this is for your fridge.

Everything looks perfectly normal, guys.

So, I will give you a minute.

It's different when it's yours.

Our zygote can feel your tension.

What's up?

Tell me.

Fucking Montez just threatened me

that he was gonna withdraw his support

if I didn't show him some progress soon.

If Montez pulls out,

Pettimore's gonna start sniffing around again,

and he has an ax to grind this time.

Felix, if he orders bloodwork...

- You kidding me? - I know. Okay.

I'm gonna figure it out. All right?

Fuck.

Barry...

in R&D, he just... he just showed me this prototype.

I-I-It's an eye-brain thing.

It's years from market.

You think that'll do it?

- Come on! - Hurry up!

Two douchey kids.

One soccer mom.

Let's go check out this Craftsman palace, huh?

And a huge motherfucking dog.

Hey, boy.

You were safer at the pound.

Yeah, what's up?

I got in.

What are you talking about?

Mercy General.

I told you to forget it.

The hack was untraceable, okay, so...

I mean, I think so. It better have been.

Christ Jesus.

Fuck.

What'd you find out?

Brady's a vegetable.

I mean, I couldn't get into the doctor's private server.

It's... it's locked up.

But I saw the whole file.

And look, if Brady's alive,

it's only in the most technical sense.

This doctor's got airtight security

protecting his personal files... why is that?

I mean, that doesn't mean anything.

We can't prove it does, you know?

So, how fucked up are we for being disappointed?

Did you know that Sadie thought Hartsfield

was communicating with her?

I really can't be talking to you. Babineau is on my ass.

Did ya?

Did you hear what I just said?

I need help, okay? Something's not right here.

Gee, do ya think?

It's probably nothing.

Yeah.

The moment Sadie jumped,

Brady's EEG was flat... nothing going on upstairs...

but his EKG, through the roof.

So his heart was pounding.

Same thing happened when you were up there visiting him.

Now, a million things could cause that.

His body's broken. Sometimes it misfires.

It doesn't have to mean awareness.

But it could.

Can I get a copy of those reports?

Are you fucking kidding me?

They keep that shit under digital lock and key.

They'd know I was in there.

I was thinking something more analog.

I'm sure they still keep file cabinets, right?

Could be wrong.

I'm not going to jail for you, Bill.

Well, from my perspective,

seems you are willing to go to jail...

only, for Babineau.

If he is up to anything illegal, he's not involving me.

A smart guy like that, he'll have made scapegoat plans

if it all goes in the shitter.

Be good to have someone on your side.

My opinion.

I'll see if I can find anything.

What are you doing?

Fuck me, Al.

This place is disgusting.

Nice knife.

Nice knife.

In the neighborhood?

Nope. Special trip.

It's not my birthday.

I ain't bearing gifts.

Right now, Maggie Wilmer is in an office at Mercy General

refusing to speak without her union rep.

You want to know why?

Because she got caught trying to break into the office

of Brady Hartsfield's neurologist.

The last time I was here, I let you off the hook.

You have shit in your ears that day?!

I don't see the connection.

I know that she's been feeding you information.

Uh, why do you care?

We also know that you've been making

unreported and illegal visits

to Hartsfield's room with her help.

You are a wealth of information.

But did you know this?

A person can truly go fuck himself

if he puts his mind to it right.

Fuck you.

Well, you never let on you were clever.

You know the hospital administrator... Pettimore?

He doesn't want the hospital dragged

anywhere near this shitstorm.

What... what shitstorm?

The one about to rain down on your head.

So he's willing to give me every fucking frame

of hospital security footage

to track your movement over a year.

And when we see that footage,

Pettimore is gonna pull Wilmer's nursing certification.

Then she's gonna get hit with fines

somewhere upward of 50 grand.

And you... I'm gonna personally walk through

your investigator's license review myself.

And with this kind of violation,

you could say bye-bye to Finders Keepers.

You won't be able to look for your fucking car keys legally!

You done?

Actually, no. I'm not.

If any of this...

and I mean any of this... gets into the media,

I'm gonna hit you with a Tier 3 HIPAA violation,

dump your ass in D-Block for 10 years.

If I do 10 years, Antonio, I'll probably die in there.

That's not my problem.

So, what's the extra nickel

for stomping your ass into the fucking ground

and a few blocks up this fucking street?

You're not threatening me, old man.

No, I don't make threats.

Little fucking pissants like you make threats.

This is a promise.

Well...

we'll see who's making the threat

and who's making the promise.

Why are you doing this?

Because you broke the law on my watch!

So it's about your ego.

It's about whatever the fuck I say it's about.

It's my case. It's my narrative.

Stay away from Mercy Gen.

Hey, pencil dick, which would scare you most...

that I don't give a fuck

or that I do?

Wow. Again with the clever.

Right before you left our last session,

you said, "I'm not worth it."

That until you take your life back from Brady, you're nothing.

Do you still feel that way?

Yes.

Look, Brady Hartsfield is a textbook psychopath.

He's incapable of empathy or remorse or human connection.

So he could never feel you.

And even if he wasn't in a coma,

there is nothing he could say that would bring you closure.

So, what, am I supposed to just let him win, then?

Well, looking at it in terms of winning and losing

will not help you.

I need to talk.

What if you... practiced what you would say to Brady,

if you could?

Dear Brady...

Oh, fuck.

Fuck you, Brady.

Fuck you.

Fuck... you...

you sniveling little prick.

That's it. Back to your lawn. Cut your grass.

Nothing to see here.

You know what really fucking pisses me off,

is that somebody who's pathetic as you could hurt me.

Could fucking hurt me?

Hmm?

You fucking little piece of shit.

Yeah!

Prick!!

They got to wipe your ass for you.

Can't eat, can't drink.

Can't fuck!

Not that you were fucking, anyway!

Look at me.

I'm walking around. Oh, yeah.

I'm talking, huh?

I'm fucking.

Definitely drinking.

Maybe a little too much.

But who did they declare the winner, Brady Hartsfield?

Huh?!

The bitch flat on her back?

Or the one on her own two fucking feet?!

You fucking lost, Brady!

Hello.

Hey, Ma?

I found a new toy.

You failed, and you'll never hurt me again.

You'll never...

ever fucking hurt me again.

What is it?

- Maybe we'd better go inside. - No, just tell me.

Well, we accessed Sadie's text messages.

And?

Well, she was arguing with Matthew about the baby.

Do you think Matthew had something to do with this?

I don't know... It's just...

things were a... bit rougher than you thought.

And she'd stopped taking her medication.

Oh, no.

She promised me she would stay on her meds.

She was worried about the effect on the baby.

As you know,

going off her medication as abruptly as she did

can cause a chaotic mental state.

I just came from the memorial, after the funeral.

She loved brownies.

I was up all night making them, but...

I'm so tired.

How will I carry this?

No matter how many times I call that phone in your hand...

...she won't answer.

You said you would fix this.

You said you would give me answers.

I did.

I need the ones I wanted.

Natalie, I told you, I can't.

I'm on the other side of town. I'm already at home.

Can't he take the bus?

I'm aware that he's 8. I took the bus at 8. So did you.

Victor? I don't know where the hell Victor is.

What do 17-year-olds do in the summer?

Yeah. Your guess is as good as mine.

Yeah, I got... I got to call you back.

All right, bye.

He can type with this?

If the mutism is physical and not selective,

this should enable him to talk, yeah.

And if it's not physical?

I have a plan for that, too.

_

I'll finish up here.

Look, you have plenty of reasons not to talk.

I understand that. I do.

But I can assure you will not spend a day in prison.

I've seen your brain, Brady.

You have exceptionally low activity

in your orbital cortex.

You know what that means?

It means you were born like this.

You were never able to control your actions.

I'll testify to that.

Never in control of my actions?

It was my masterpiece.

I have half a dozen eminent psychiatrists

who are also willing to testify on your behalf.

If you work with me,

I assure you will not spend a day in prison

and you will live your days out in a psychiatric hospital.

Psychiatric hospital? I can hardly fucking wait.

A state-of-the-art facility.

Good food,

you get to see the sky, take walks.

Not a bad life at all.

And the check is in the mail.

And I won't come in your mouth.

And I didn't inhale.

Just... play ball.

Well...

liar, liar.

I heard you talking to Señor Montez.

You want to put me in prison.

You want to put me in the chair.

Hmm.

"Play ball"?

Ohhh.

I thought you'd never ask.

I don't understand.

I don't understand.

I-I don't understand. I don't...

I don't...

When I arrived, there was hope on her face.

I crushed it like a fucking roach.

Do you think in our marriage,

we were guilty of too much honesty?

Hmm? Or... or not enough?

I don't like where this is headed.

When you lead with a question, you end with a judgment,

and it's never in my favor.

'Cause I think we were guilty of not enough.

Because when you're married and especially

if you have a kid, you got to keep the peace.

Handle with care.

I'm really about to get shat on here.

No.

Billy, the job always fucked you up.

And now, for you to knowingly go down

that same rabbit hole again...

this time, taking Jerome and Holly...

Do you even know what the hell you're doing?

Probably not.

You've spent your whole life searching for clues,

looking for any detail under every rock.

You need to pay attention.

- Anything good to say? - No.

Remember, you used to say about your law firm that,

all the rules and regulations aside,

most cases came down to the smell test.

- Do you remember that? - Yeah.

You could sniff it?

Well, I know how fucked it is

to think this guy might be cognitive.

I am aware of it, all right?

And you're right.

It's selfish to drag Jerome and Holly down my skunk hole.

But I have sniffed this piece of shit.

He's more alive than anyone knows.

He's fucking in there.

You're wondering about the clothes, aren't you?

Just bag 'em and burn 'em.

But get dressed first.

I might've fucked up again.

Already?

I mean, it's pretty early.

Because of my digging around on Hartsfield,

Montez threatened to pull our license,

which would include your license.

I don't think he'll do it, but...

Sorry.

Nothing to say?

What do you want me to say?

Something that will take you off the hook?

Something that will make you feel like less of a selfish jerk?

Yeah, something like that, yeah.

Holly...

I know how important

being a private detective has become to you.

I have no intention of jeopardizing that.

I never really set out to be a private detective,

so much as I set out to be you.

You know, I admire how much you commit yourself to the truth,

how you believe in yourself, no matter what.

I don't believe in myself at all.

Well, you should.

You know, I... I did a little bit of independent research,

and while still implausible, it is possible for Brady

to be faking his mutism

and influencing the actions of others.

Now, evidently, there can be no classification of "supernatural"

when it comes to the human brain,

as the boundaries of nature have yet to be defined.

Are... are you hearing what I'm saying?

You're going down my skunk hole.

You're taking this pretty well.

Thanks.

I understand.

That's not to say that I forgive you.

There is no record that Finders Keepers was charged

with carrying out any duties surrounding your activities

with Brady Hartsfield or Mercy General.

My attorney will draw up a statement

declaring that your actions

were outside the scope of your agency

and it had nothing to do with Finders Keepers.

You were not acting as my employee,

nor were you being paid by anyone.

Right.

You will sign that statement.

That's fair.

It's not even close to fair.

Thanks for the breakfast, but I'm not really hungry.

_

Bollocks.

Let's go... last time. Let's go.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6,

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Stop, stop, stop. Amazing!

You did it!

You were great! That was awesome!

Hey, there.

What's your poison?

Ginger ale.

Ginger ale... coming right up.

I'll have a double bourbon, please.

All right. Coming right up.

- See the fucking time? - Yeah, I'm aware of the fucking time.

What do you want?

- There you go. - Thanks, doll.

Sure.

Someone broke into my house,

ransacked it...

stole my gun...

and then killed my dog.

Well, ex-con, old case? What?

That's what you'll see on the news, yeah.

Come on. I don't really give a fuck.

If you help me with this...

I will, um... forget about what we discussed yesterday.

Why me? I'm sure you have a slew of detectives

who are chomping at the bit.

Yeah, well...

I think this involves Hartsfield.

I did something.

Something that I can't risk Dunford getting wind of.

The motherfucker will use it against me.

But honestly, it's starting to drive me

a little crazy thinking about it.

When I heard Hartsfield woke up, I paid him a visit.

Privately, just he and I in the room.

And I'm not proud to admit it, but...

I squeezed the fuck out of his balls.

That's it? I'm sure people have done worse than that.

Yeah, well, I also said something to him,

something that I haven't said out loud

since sophomore-year Latin class.

Just... came to me.

"Occupandi temporis."

"Seize the moment" or some fucking thing.

Right.

Here's the important part.

No one...

I fucking mean no one was within 100 feet of that room

when I said what I said.

And then this.

Would you, uh, add two fingers of whiskey,

stand this on its feet?

- There you go. - Same here, doll.

Thank you.

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